


As Time Goes By

by bleedingrose0688



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-20 09:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14258103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedingrose0688/pseuds/bleedingrose0688
Summary: Ever since her unexpected departure Connor and Murphy have been sending letters in a vain effort of keeping in contact with their old flame. Some are filled with ramblings after a night of drinking, others recount memories of their one on one affairs. Rated M for adult content and language.





	1. Chapter 1

Kinda hard to believe it’s been close to a year since we last saw ya, let alone spoke with ya. Hopefully you’ve gotten at least some of the letters we sent…Smecker says he’s been giving them to ya but thinks you’re just being too damn stubborn to write us back.  Hate to say it but I have to kinda agree with the man; you were always a stubborn one, kinda like Ma actually now that I think of it.

She still asks about ya every now and then when we see her but for the most part I think she’s just happy to have us home. She’s been doting on us since we walked through the front door.  Actually, that didn’t happen until after she gave us both a proper beating.  Should’ve seen the beating she gave Da after she tanned our hides!  I was more than pleasantly surprised she kept our room the same as when we left…a sty.  Told us if we wanted fresh sheets on the beds that we were grown and we could do it our fucking selves.

Can ya believe it? Our Ma using that sort of language with us?  Her own charming, sweet boys and she turns on us by calling us bastard spawn of the Devil himself!  I’m sure you’re asking yourself why I’m telling ya all of this, huh?  Truth is, Ma wants ya here with us.  Not just to meet ya and help keep us in line but she says the two of ya are kindred spirits.  Had a late night fireside chat with her a few days after we got home and she was telling me about how you remind her of herself when she was a wee lass.

She was telling me that even though the two of you had never met in person and had only ever talked on the phone that she knew you were something special to us. She says that we always need someone to look out for us and the way you took care of us when we were hurt, she really appreciates that it was you and not someone else.  ‘Sounds like she’s got a firm but gentle hand’ were Ma’s exact words.  And it’s true, you do have a firm but gentle hand.  Ma thought it was fucking hysterical when I told her about the time ya slapped us around and blamed us for the way your apartment looked when ya came home after Christmas.

Not really sure what else I can say at this point, maybe I’ll set this aside for a few days and see what else comes to mind. There’s so much that I want to tell you about but sometimes after a night of drinking the details get a wee bit fuzzy.  Much like right now, I’ve only gotten this far and I’m about four beers in.  How about I just ramble on for a bit and see where it leads too, aye?  I know you’ve gotta miss our midnight ramblings especially after a few pints and we’d wind up back at your place for some moonlight madness.  That horny bastard I call me brother woke me up the last three nights in a row moaning your name.  Ma thought it was the real thing and came barging in while the little shit had his hand down his pants.  Funniest fucking shit I ever seen in my life!  Ah well, we got shit to do in the morning so I guess I’ll set this aside for a few days and hit the hay (here’s to not being woken up for a fourth night…)

Well it’s been close to a week since I’ve picked this up, after reading through it the first couple of times I almost threw it out to start over but if I did that you wouldn’t have been able to read those first few ramblings. We had our 28th birthday a few months ago and we know yours was back in April, just a fucking shame we couldn’t have spent that day with you or you with us on ours.  Ma got us some new clothes, says all that time in America made us fat and nothing we had at home really fit us anymore and if it did it was bursting at the seams (her words, not mine).  She’s got a point though, all that time we spent at the diner fattened us quite a bit but I think your cooking may have played a hand in it as well; you always made enough to feed a small army and made us take some to work with us so we didn’t have to spend money.

Ma still won’t tell us who came out first; Da stopped by the house to wish us a happy birthday as well, we tried to gang up on him to find out but he was really no help, says it was whoever got his ass popped cause he didn’t come out crying. Da bought a sheep farm a few hours away and is asking us to move out there with him; he says it’s quiet and after everything we’ve been through that the quiet would do us some good.  Ma doesn’t see it that way but says if we do move out there with Da that she’d rather us be a few hours away versus a few thousand miles.

I had a dream about you a few nights ago, don’t know why I’m telling you about it but figured there’s no harm in letting you know that I still think about you. Was dreaming about one of the nights Murph was in the hospital, he was awake so you were finally spending some time at home with your cats and not worrying about him so much.  Not sure if you remember or not but you had gotten real snappy with one of the nurses and in a cruel turnabout I ended up getting called to bring your cranky ass home (usually they’re calling you to take me home, remember?)

Anyway, I came and got you even though you were putting up quite a fight over it, Murph promised to stay out of trouble for the night and that he wouldn’t go running down the halls flashing those sweet old ladies. I got you home and settled in at home, your cats were more than happy to see their Ma home for a change, the one with the blue collar (can’t remember his name) was all over you like a dog, the other just laid in your lap and fell asleep all cuddled up.  I made your tea just the way you like it (with a healthy dose of whiskey, of course), put on one of your favorite movies, and left you to your own devices.

I remember a few hours later I had fallen asleep in my bed wondering if and when Murph was coming home; admittedly I hated falling asleep alone knowing that my brother wasn’t in the bed across from mine. Had to have been almost 2-3 in the morning when you snuck in and started getting a wee bit frisky, I’ve had some girlfriends that would wake me on occasion with a blowjob every now and then but you get bonus points for creativity on that one.  Never thought I’d wake up in the middle of finishing and never even knew how it all started.  I honestly thought the whole thing was one big wet dream until I heard you whispering my name, completely unaware that I was fully awake.

I remember you were so lost in getting yourself off that you never felt me sitting up in bed and laying you on your back; your eyes were closed and your hair was covering half your face but I could smell how strong the whiskey was on your breath. I probably shouldn’t have gone as far as I did but you were practically begging for a release.  I remember hitching your leg up over my hip and just driving into you; the way you were keening, how you kept encouraging me to go hard, deeper, faster…

I’ve never told anyone about that night, not even in confession although it was damning enough that I probably should’ve. Murph doesn’t even know about it although he does pester me from time to time wondering what happened.  Sometimes one of the only downsides to being a twin is that we know when the other is hiding or holding something back.  We used to never keep things from each other until you came you along.  Me and Murph are still very open with one other about you but there are just a few things we keep solely for ourselves; only a few moments of sentiment that mean everything to us as individuals.

Guess I’ll wrap this up by saying that we both miss you. I know you must’ve read those words more than a dozen times considering we both write it in every letter we send.  I managed to scrounge enough money together to get you just a little something (because it is Christmas).  Not quite as old as the Book of Kells but it was one of things I came across in an old, musty bookshop.  It’s got an authentication certificate with it so I figured it must be the real deal and if not at least you’ll have a good story to tell.

Connor

P.S. I know it probably won’t happen but we would both love to hear from you, even if it’s just a single line telling us you’re okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a sequel in the works for Her Defenses tentatively titled Her Regrets so until I feel the product is good enough to be posted this will have to do in the meantime. I have always wondered what happened in the 8 years between the first film and the second and decided to take a few creative liberties with that gap of time. Hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

Hard to believe it’s been nine months since we last saw you, let alone heard your voice. What I wouldn’t give to hear you laugh at something stupid one of us did or at one of Roc’s bad jokes.  Suppose Connor already told you about what happened a few nights ago, matter of fact I _know_ he did…found the letter he was working on and read it.  Sometimes I forget I’m 28 and not 14 anymore but you know how it gets, sometimes you get these urges and you gotta take care ‘em.

Ma’s happy as hell that we’re back, beat the holy shit outta us when we walked through the door for not calling, not writing or anything of the like saying we were coming home. Gave Da a good wallop for making her raise us on her own for 20 some-odd years.  She made us our favorite food that night then went down to The Anvil and saw our uncle and cousins, it was great to see everyone after all those years apart but every time we heard the door open I kept thinking you’d be the next person to walk through the door ready to bitch about another shitty day at work after three or four shots of whiskey.

Was telling our cousin Saoirse about the first time you ever drank Connor under the table, said she would’ve had to see it to believe it but anyone with a pair of tits who could drink a MacManus under the table deserves to be called an honorary Irishwoman…she was already good and drunk by the time we showed up. You would’ve like Saoirse though, two of you work shitty jobs you hate and after a few drinks tell some of the dirtiest fucking jokes I’ve ever heard.

When Ma was finally able to drag us home at 3 in the morning she left me dumbass brother in the car to sleep off the hangover he got the next day. Ma says she forgot he was in the car since he was passed out in the back seat but really she didn’t wanna deal with his whining ass when she got up in the morning.  I don’t remember anything from that night but Ma swears that I kept asking for you, wondering where you were and why you never came to the bar with us, that I wanted you to meet Ma.

I’m sure Connor’s told you that Da bought a sheep farm a few hours from here and that it’s a quiet place where we can escape to, he wants us to move out there with him, says the quiet would be good for us. I don’t know what you said to him when he found you that day after Roc died but he’s been really trying to know us.  He got us a few things for our birthday that makes me think you had something to do with it: Connor got a bunch of stupid movies that he’s been watching over and over… _The Eiger Sanction_ and _Machine-Gun Kelly_ are probably his new favorites…I swear he’s got an unhealthy obsession with Clint Eastwood  & Charlie Bronson.  Got me a couple of John Wayne movies but mostly it was sketchpads and some supplies.  Never told him I liked to draw so it must’ve been either Ma or Connor that told him.  Did you know the tats on our necks were the first thing I drew and actually liked?  Never thought I’d let Connor talk me into putting ink to skin.  We did ‘em ourselves and Ma was _PISSED_ when she saw us come out of our room with our necks wrapped in towels.

I know, I’m rambling now, just trying to think of what else I could say that I haven’t said before.

Tomorrow is Christmas and Ma’s down the hall fussing up a storm about how it’ll be the first holiday we’ve ever spent together as a family…she invited Da over to eat with us so it’ll new to all of us. Just can’t shake those memories of all those years of seeing an empty chair across from Ma and after 28 years it’ll be filled for the first time tomorrow night.  Our uncle invited us all over for breakfast at The Anvil in the morning…kinda tradition more or less.  Spend time with all the family eat, drink, be merry sorta thing in the morning, small gift exchange then we all go home and spend the rest of the day playing with the toys we got that morning.  After dinner, when the food was put away and the dishes were clean then Ma would let us open whatever was under the tree.  It wasn’t a lot, usually just a bunch of clothes but we always got something that was our own and something that had to be shared.  One year she got us both new bikes, she had been scraping and saving the whole year…she said it was worth it seeing us wearing matching ear-to-ear grins.  Another year she gave us a Nintendo; we weren’t really that into it but it was nice to have when it was too shitty outside to play and we were done with our homework.

Was in town a few days ago and Connor stopped by a bookshop and got ya some musty smelling piece of junk written in Italian. Don’t worry, he thumped me a good one for making that comment out loud, said you would’ve done it if you were with us…either that or shot me a dirty look…probably both now that I’m really thinking on it.  Can’t really say much on his choice of book except that he’s got himself a plan if you ever come to Ireland and you bring that book with you.  Swear to Christ he’s got pussy on the brain more than I do!

I know, I know, Lord’s name…Ma just whacked me for that one…still don’t get how she knew I even wrote that when she was just in the kitchen a few minutes ago.

Connor told me that he’s been leaving “memories” in the stuff he’s written you, mostly what you two had been doing while I was in the hospital, he thought maybe I should leave a few of my own but I’ll refrain from doing that.

For now.

Don’t wanna risk having one of these letters come open and prying eyes reading about some of the things we’ve done together and to each other.

I get where he’s coming from and why he’s doing it, he doesn’t want you to forget about him. I don’t want you to forget about me so I guess I can try and start with something tame, see where it leads.

When I was in the hospital, had to have been a couple of days after I woke up, you came up one morning while I was still sleeping and crawled into the bed next to me. Your breathing was just starting to even out when someone (I think it was a nurse) came in and let the door slam against the wall, woke us both up.  You were too tired to say anything and flopped back down on the pillow but since I was rudely awakened I ended up getting up to take a piss.  They just pulled the catheter out the day before so I could use the toilet like a normal person but they still didn’t trust me to move around on my own.

The nurse (or whoever) helped me into the bathroom and wouldn’t fucking leave while I’m standing there trying to take a piss…even tried striking up a conversation. Finally finished up and was washing my hands when she asked if I was seeing anyone, that she thought I’d be a good match for her aunt who had just gotten divorced and wanted something “young and virile.”

Her words, not mine.

Told her she was outta her fucking mind to ask something that damn stupid when you were clearly in the bed sleeping. Nurse kept going on and on about how there was no way we were together, she just knew you and Connor were fucking, you came in with him when I got rushed there and you two were leaving together around the same time each night while I was still out.  She just kept pushing and pushing until I damn near exploded on her; never meant to wake you up but I guess we did what with her insistence and me trying to tell her otherwise.

You shut her up pretty damn quick when you walked into the bathroom with that damned and determined look in your eye; you wrapped your hand around the back of neck and laid one on me that left me and Nurse Pest speechless. After you got me back in bed and comfy you whipped your head around and told her if she ever tried to do that shit again you were gonna have her fired and would make sure she never worked in another hospital again.

She huffed off saying you couldn’t have both of us…almost burst out laughing at that one. You came back and we both fell asleep once you got yourself situated in bed next to me.  Doctor Nguyen came in a few hours later asked how I was doing (at least he had the decency to knock).  Don’t know how he managed to come in without waking you but I told him what happened with that nurse.  He said what the three of us had was between us and no one else; from his perspective you were caught in the middle of taking care of the two of us while trying to maintain your sanity.

He asked what you were to me before he left. Know what I told him?  Same thing I should’ve told you a long time ago…maybe if I had said something when you were trying to…nevermind.

Told him that you were mine, you were Connor’s…ours.

Maybe if I told you that you would’ve stayed.

Can’t change the past but you should at least know that you’ll always be ours no matter what.

I got you a little something for Christmas and you probably won’t get it until probably New Year’s but it’s just something for you to remember us by and it’s a little something that says Ireland and you can’t get much more Irish then freshly brewed whiskey. Da’s got a few friends (shocking, right?) that gave him a bunch of the stuff as a welcome home gift so he’s been giving it away a few bottles at a time.  Me and Connor already have one so I thought you should have one too.  Maybe if you ever come see us we can crack a bottle open and have one of those nights out under the stars and the fire going like you used to tell us about.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year!

Murphy


	3. Chapter 3

** Chapter 3 **

****

Woke up this morning with only one thing on my mind: Roc’s been gone a whole year now. Can you believe it?  A year ago today you were begging us not to go, not to leave your apartment, pleading with Murphy to change his mind knowing that if he did I would back out at the last minute too.  A year ago today we were being beaten in the basement of a mob boss by his cronies.  A year ago today that the bastard stepped into the room, raised his gun and fired a single shot into Rocco’s chest.  I can still hear myself screaming ‘God, no’ knowing there wasn’t a damn thing either of us could do.

Can’t remember if either of us ever told you how it happened…sorry if we have and I’m repeating myself.

We used Roc’s car…biggest fucking mistake we could’ve made that night; we thought by parking it four blocks away that we’d be in the clear of Yakavetta’s guys. We tried to get in through the basement but they grabbed us as soon as they saw us…must’ve tripped an alarm or something…they had us outnumbered 4 to 3, 5 to 3 if you count Yakavetta, 6 to 3 if you count Da before we knew.

They started working on us, beating us to a pulp. At first it was one on one, the fourth had to have been getting our death room ready (don’t know what else to call it).  The fat fuck working Murph over kept hitting him in the face…no one hits my brother except me…Murph ended up with a bloody mug by the time they had him cuffed to a chair (no idea how they managed to get his feet cuffed without him nailing ‘em in the face).

Roc was next, his face was a damn mess…they opened up the gunshot on his pinky that we tried to cauterize with an iron. He was howling he was in so much pain.  God, I can still hear him screaming after all this time when I close my eyes.

I was the last one they got in a chair, they cuffed me same as Murph but I got the worst of it compared to them. The cut on my head from when we had our run-in with the Russians was opened up again, the bullet hole in my leg was opened up…I was fucking bloody mess, surprised that the cuffs around my wrists didn’t open those old wounds up again.

They worked us for God only knows how long before Papa Joe came in wanting answers. Rocco finally took a stand and told him to fuck himself (bad fucking timing if you ask me).  Motherfucker shot his other pinky off before they all left the room.  They weren’t gone too long before Yakavetta came back and we just knew what was going to happen.  It was like time slowed down, everything happened in slow motion: Yakavetta coming into the room, took a couple of steps forward, brought his gun up and fired a single shot straight into Rocco’s chest.

His last words to us were to never stop.

To lose Roc like that was devastating, it was the first time in a while that Murph cried. He still blames himself, ya know.  Thinks that if he had listened to you in the first place that maybe Rocco would still be alive today.  Only good that came out of that day was Da.

Speaking of, we finally decided to move out to the country onto the farm Da bought. He’s right, the quiet is helping a bit, been sleeping a bit better since being out here.  Still trying to get the hang of this whole sheep farming/herding business though; Da got us a couple of horses and I gotta tell ya the damn things are not as easy to handle as they make it look in the movies.  I swear, the one I got must’ve never been ridden before.  When I first got on it the damn thing started bucking, trying to get me off but Da told me to just hang on.  It eventually calmed down enough that there’s no problem now but it’s a fight to get Murph on his every time.

Had our first St. Patrick’s Day at The Anvil a few nights ago, gotta say nothing beats a celebration at home although spending time with you and Doc runs a close second. Our cousin Saoirse was already three sheets to the wind when we came in and started asking if tonight was gonna be the night you finally showed up and drank me under the table.  Found out the next day, after we sobered up, that Murph’s been telling her about you the last few months.  I swear, one of these days he’s gonna start telling her more intimate stories about the two of you and then everyone in the family will feel like they know you on a whole other level.

I swear if you ever came here you, Ma, and Saoirse would be thick as thieves; can’t even begin to imagine the shit you three would get into. Da swears if it were to ever happen that he could almost guarantee that he’d be taken Ma home, Saoirse’s husband would be taking her home, and you’d be stuck with the two of us.  Although it may not be such a bad thing…alcohol makes you throw your inhibitions out the window. May be able to talk you into a roll in the hay (literally) and maybe a few other things if you catch my meaning.

Valentine’s was last month and I know I made a promise to myself after my first letter that I’d send you another picture from our only real date together. This is my second favorite one and I have to admit the person who took this picture did a fantastic job of capturing something that only me and Murphy ever saw.

Remember how cold it was? Everything below the knee was practically bare but you somehow managed to keep your teeth from chattering up a storm, something that I couldn’t stop from doing.  Your fingers were freezing ass cold but when you put ‘em on my cheek…it was like everything fell away.  I know, I’m being a cheesy romantic (and you hate it).  It’s true though, the way you looked at me made me feel like I was all that mattered.

Sometimes, when I have trouble getting to sleep, I’ll pull this picture out and just look at it and remember every time you gave me that look. Your eyes said everything; asking what I was thinking, wondering if you were good enough for the likes of my ugly mug, pleading with me to not get hurt, asking that I make sure Murph stays out of trouble.  When I look at this picture I always ask myself what your eyes were saying at this moment.  It’s clear that your still worried about Murph when he was laid up but there was something else…maybe fear?

Ah well, we gotta be up extra early in the morning, Da’s insisting on going to the market before it gets crowded to get some lambs. He wants to widen the gene pool so to speak, no in-breeding if he can help it…have to load up some of the sheep and a couple of rams, try to do an even trade.

If you get this, please just send a line or something back to let us know you’re alright.

Connor


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for the lack of updates to this story however there's been a lot going on recently and I just haven't been motivated, that was until last week when a large cup of coffee after 5pm perked me up enough to binge watch both movies. Shoutout to FanFreak2002 for looking this over and listening to my incoherent rambles for the last week as well as helping me work through what will be material for future chapters. Let me know what you think on your way out :)

** Chapter 4 **

****

Roc’s dead ‘cause of me, you know that right? It was my idea to bring him in on our shit in the first place, my idea that he should go with us on these hits, my idea he go with us to Yakavetta’s.  It’s my fault Rocco’s dead and if I had listened to you in the first place that night he’d still be alive today.

I can’t even put pen to paper to tell his Ma that it was my fault her son ended up dead. Hell, she’d probably shoot me dead and piss on my grave before she ever forgave me.  I wouldn’t be asking her to forgive me.  Smecker said the cops told her he took one to the chest on his way home from some pizza place, but she should know how her son really died.  Yeah, it was done by his boss and his cronies but she needs to know the truth, what really happened that night.

So do you.

I can still remember it clear as day.

Doc had given us Smecker’s card a long time ago, back when we were attacked by the Russians out back in the alley, we just hung onto it just in case. Don’t ask what that just in case was, we didn’t know it at the time either but it presented itself to us when we made that decision.  Connor told him we were going to be hitting Papa Joe’s that night, after that head to New York.  We left that out on purpose when we told you.  We didn’t think we’d see Smecker again, the last thing he told us before Connor hung up was to be careful.

We should’ve told you too that Yakavetta had a hit man coming after us; told Smecker about him. We didn’t know it was Da; he had been locked up for the better part of 25 years (guess that explains why we never heard from him, right?)  Ma wasn’t too happy when Da told her what happened, went on a tirade and threatened to shoot him with his old revolver.

Anyway, after we got back to your place, you and Connor were arguing for hours on end, going back and forth the rest day until the time came for us to leave. I’ll never forget what you told us. 

_“You cannot do this, I told you before that I’ve already had to bury someone I loved once and I cannot do that again. I swear if you walk out that door tonight I will not be here if and when you do come back.  I will not be here to fix you; I will not be here if Smecker knocks on my door.”_

I knew the looks you were giving me when I had my back to you; I knew how scared you were about losing us, all of us including Roc. Everything seemed so final when the door clicked shut behind us.  The entire way to Yakavetta’s I wanted to tell Connor to turn the car around, that we weren’t ready for something like this.

But I kept my mouth shut; I didn’t speak up when I knew I needed to.

We parked four blocks away; we thought we were well out of sight, well hidden. We thought we were being sneaky trying to get in through one of the basement windows.  How were we supposed to know there were cameras that alerted them to our being there?  How were we supposed to know we tripped a silent alarm?  How were we supposed to know that they were waiting for us?  That we were set-up?

We thought it’d be only him, in the comfort of his own home.

How were we supposed to know that Roc’s information was wrong?

How were we supposed to know?

They were waiting for us, the way they had us surrounded we knew we were fucked. But me being who I am naturally threw the first punch.  It was all chaos and melee after that.  We weren’t quick enough though.  Cuffed us all to chairs, arms behind our backs, feet shackled to the legs.  They got a few good hits in on all of us; our faces were all bloodied up and swollen you wouldn’t have even recognized us.  Out of all of us, Roc got it the worst.  He refused to talk so they shot his finger off (his actual words were “fuck you” but you get the picture.)

Connor will probably never say anything to you but I still catch him sometimes trying to scrub his face off. When Roc’s finger got shot off the blood sprayed across his face.  Connor sometimes will wake up in the middle of the night screaming at Roc to look at him; it’s almost like he’s seeing a ghost of him, you know?  I have to remind him that there’s no blood, that we’re still not in that basement.

He has to remind me too; when they shot his finger off I was fighting against some fat fuck in a brown shirt with his arm wrapped around my neck in a chokehold, he was holding me down so anytime I tried to jump out of my chair I couldn’t. After fatso let me out of the chokehold, after the gunshot, he held me by the throat with his bare hand, like he was trying to squeeze the life out of me.

Connor has had to wake me out of a dead sleep. He’s seen me struggle, like I’m still in the chair; he has to remind me too that we’re not in the basement anymore.

I can still see the look of pure horror on his face as Yakavetta came back into the room, the way he raised his gun (not even really aiming it) and the sound it made when he fired it. I can still hear the crack of the wood splintering as the bullet exited out of Roc’s chest.  There was so much power behind that bullet it literally knocked him on his back.  Just like that, Yakavetta walked out of the room like nothing happened.

Connor was screaming his lungs out, no one could hear him but me. We knew they were out there, we knew they could hear him scream, but they ignored us completely.  I toppled onto the floor next to Roc, shoving him with my shoulder, trying to get him to stay with us.  I can still hear his words playing inside my head. 

_“You can’t stop, you get outta here, don’t ever stop.”_

He was gone, just like that. He quit breathing, his head fell off to the side and all I could do was scream that I was going to kill every last one of them.  I even swore on it.  I don’t swear like that hardly ever but you can bet your ass that I did this time.

That’s what we did. We killed every last one of them.

Then they all left us and went upstairs. Connor managed to shake a cuff loose from his chair and freed his leg.  Fucking hurt like hell but he broke something (my arm, my wrist, my hand, something) and got me free from the chair so I could stand.  Waited for one of those fucks to come back downstairs, when he did I stabbed him in the back until he was good and dead.  Connor likes to think he helped by kicking the guy but really I did all the work with a fucked up hand.

Once we made sure he was dead, I rooted around in his pocket for the handcuff keys and got us both out of those chairs for good. We sat Rocco up and closed his eyes (I can still see how big they were; black like all the color had gone from them).  We put the pennies over his eyes and started saying our family prayer and that was when we heard a gun cocking behind us.

It was Da, leaning against the door frame with a cigar in his hand for a few seconds before sticking it in his mouth. Da finished the prayer, put his hands on the side of our faces and just looked at us.  We didn’t say hardly anything to each other after we got in the car but Lord knows I wanted to hit him and shout at him where, questioning where he was all these years, why he left Ma, why he left us.  I suppose he’ll tell us in due time.

I can still hear Roc’s screams when I sleep at night. Don’t think I can ever get that sound out of my head.  It’s good that Da moved us out into the country where there’s quiet.  It helps us to forget, if only for a little while.

Sometimes when we go to town we’ll bring our guns and wear our coats over them. Any time we see something on the street we don’t agree with we both feel the urge to put the fucker on his knees.  Da has to remind us that we’re home and can’t be doing that.  He thinks we should take everything we had (the guns, the money, our rosaries) and lock them in a box, bury it somewhere where we aren’t tempted to use them.  He wants us to be fully at peace.

He thinks sending these letters are a bad idea, that they can be traced but Smecker’s assured us that they can’t be traced. As long as Smecker’s alive, we’ll keep sending you letters and little things every now and again.  Your birthday’s next month, maybe if I can get to town in the next week or two I’ll pick something up for you, a new book perhaps (know you’re fond of Stephen King).

It’s getting late though, going on one in the morning here and we’ve gotta be up early to get the fences fixed. Some stupid fucking kids got in and tore some of the posts out.  Probably for the best though, wood was rotted to hell to begin with.

Murphy


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry it's been awhile since this has been updated but there's just not a lot of time anymore between working two jobs 7 days a week. I will update when I can however they will be more sporadic than I would like. Shout out to FanFreak2002 for being my beta on this as well as for the inspiration to write this chapter. For anyone who has read the BDS comics hopefully there's a small bit that you recognize.

** Chapter 5 **

****

Hey, it’s me. Guess you already knew that from the handwriting, huh?

Sorry you haven’t heard from either of us in a long time, we’re finally getting the hang of this entire sheep farming business. We just finished moving the herd from one patch of land to another that’s closer to the barn.  It’s turning colder now and it’s only September but that’s Irish weather for you.  I think if you saw us now you wouldn’t recognize us, we (sorta) look like Jesus Christ – long(er) hair, beards even.  Ma wants us to shave ‘em off and cut our hair but Da says it’s a good look for us; makes us look more mature.  Have to agree with the man.  Stared at myself in the mirror for the first time in a long time and started seeing crow’s feet ‘round my eyes but I don’t think he meant for mature to equal older.

Fucking hate getting old and I’m only 30.

I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this but Uncle Sibeal had to do a favor for us, it felt like old times. Kid was found dead in a hole, looks like he took one to the chest.  Sibeal says nothing like this ever happens out here but this was the fourth boy to have gone missing in the past year and the first body found.  He’s doing some digging for us; hopefully we can find who did this before it happens to another kid.

I haven’t said anything to anyone but lately I’ve been questioning whether or not Da is really our Da. It doesn’t seem right to outright ask for a test; I know what it’ll say.  Just that he left when we were so little, I don’t even remember what he looked like.  Ma and Sibeal have pictures of him but it’s just not the same, you know?  He won’t even tell us what our grandfather was like.  Only thing we could get on that matter was from Sibeal and the only thing he offered was that he and Da went to New York back in the 50’s and shortly after he died, Da came back.  Sibeal being the older of the two stayed behind, was already in the seminary learning how to become a priest.

He taught us the family prayer.

Funny how one thought turns into another, isn’t it? Had a sudden memory of Rocco hit me out of nowhere.  We were leaving this place called The Sin Bin and he was begging us to teach him the prayer.  I flat out told him no; it was my father’s father’s before him, it was ours.  Murph feels so guilty about Roc but he doesn’t know I feel just as guilty as him.  Guess I hide it better than him.  Never told anyone, not even in confession, but I wanted Roc to be in this with us just as much as Murphy did.  He asked me for one thing, to teach him the prayer and I denied him that.  Every one of those fuckers we put on their knees, we’d say it and Roc would just be there on the sidelines watching everything unfold.

I should’ve told him.

I should’ve told him the prayer, should’ve told him what it meant to us, what it meant to Sibeal, what it meant to our family. The last time we ever said it with Rocco in the room with us was the night he was killed, after we righted his chair.  Roc should’ve been there, with us, saying it with us, in the courtroom when we had Yakavetta on his knees.  We knew he was there in spirit but it just wasn’t the same, you know?

I should’ve told him. His one request from us, from me, and I denied him that.

I sometimes wonder what kind of person our grandfather was. Da never talks about him or the kind of man he was.  Sibeal has to tell us if we have questions about that side of the family.  So far the only thing we were able to get was that his name was Jacob and that he and Da went to America for a better life.  You know the American Dream and all that.  He worked with leather but we don’t know anything about how he died.

Other than his name and what he did, me and Murph are completely in the dark. Murph thinks that Da is just a private person; perhaps he’s right but you shouldn’t hide things from your family, especially your children.  God forbid either of us has kids, I won’t deny the things we did or hide the truth from them.

I remember when we were growing up, when we were finally able to sit still long enough to pay attention in church, Ma would make us stay late after Sunday service so Sibeal could teach us the family prayer. He drilled it into us until we had it memorized.  He would make us promise to say it every night before bed and if we didn’t he’d know about it.

“The Lord speaks to me, he tells me when you’ve said your prayers and when you haven’t. He tells me about the scrapes you get into and when you talk back to your mother.  Promise me that you’ll try to do better this week.  I don’t want to hear about blasphemy from either of you in Confession, understand?”

Another funny thing that I remember growing up with a priest for an uncle is how his little speeches on blasphemy suddenly turning into lectures on sins of the flesh. Sometimes it would feel like he was standing behind the pulpit when he’d lecture us, other times the lectures would come when he’d pick us up from school or was taking us home after church.

I’ll never forget when we were 16, just to screw with Ma and Sibeal, Murph went around telling everyone his girlfriend at the time was pregnant and that they were gonna get married just before she popped. I take that back, Murph says he was gonna marry her while she was in labor.  Either way when Ma found out she tore a path through town hunting him and his girlfriend down, ready to tear his head clear off his shoulders.  Found the pair of ‘em at some cake shop talking about cakes, flavors, all that wedding shit most women get in some kind of mood over.

Ma yanked him out of the chair by his shirt collar and dragged him out of the shop by his ear. Caused a huge fucking scene in front of God and everyone when she literally booted his ass all the way home.  The little shit couldn’t sit for two weeks without being in pain.

Found out later it was all one big joke the two of them had been planning for weeks. It was all a rouse just to see how we’d all react.  From what I heard, her parents forced her to take a pregnancy test and when that came back negative they carted her off to the doctor’s just to be sure.  They broke up not too long after that.  She went all psycho on him when she found out he wasn’t all that interested in marriage.  Turns out she was taking all the wedding planning seriously and was turning into one of those bride-zillas you see on t.v. these days.

I’ll wrap this up for now, me and Murph are gonna meet Saoirse at The Anvil and do some catching up.   Apparently she has something she wants to tell us.  Hopefully it’s nothing bad; don’t think I can really take any more bad news after seeing that boy’s body a few days ago.

It’s been at least a week or two since I started writing this; Saoirse’s knocked up and has to quit drinking for the next nine months. She said as soon as the baby is born she wants a bottle of whiskey.  Don’t think the doctors would let her start drinking in the hospital but we promised her to take her out when the baby’s old enough to be left alone for an hour or two with her husband.  I know we keep repeating the same words over and over, I’m sure you’re tired of reading ‘em but Saoirse really wants you to come out here.  Not just so she and Ma could have a drinking buddy on the weekends but she thinks you’re good for us.

Guess we’ve told her quite a bit about you, she probably knows you better now than we do. She’s a betting woman, our cousin.  She’s betting that if you were here now that me and Murph may not be so damn miserable.  It’s not so much the loneliness that’s killing us, it’s the not knowing.  Not knowing if Smecker’s keeping his word in seeing that you get these, not knowing if you’re even still alive to read these.  If I had known now what I didn’t know then about that night at Papa Joe’s I never would’ve put us in that position.  I never would have closed that door in your face.

I’m scared.

Times like this I wish we had more than that one night together. You remember the night I mean, right?  The bathtub.  Just you and me, laying our cards on the table.  Murph doesn’t even know what all happened that night, all he knows is that the next morning it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.  Like I could finally breathe again.

There’s so much uncertainty right now and I don’t know if I can take much more of it. You of all people know I like being control, know how I like to know what’s going to happen next, that everything will work out in the end and that everyone will be alive and safe.

Please, just send a note or something telling me that you’re alive at least.

Connor


	6. Chapter 6

** Chapter 6 **

****

I can see it now…if I were standing in front of you, you’d have your hands around my neck, screaming “Murphy MacManus why haven’t I heard a word out of you in a year and half?!” Well, truthfully I’ve been avoiding this for a long time.  Don’t ask why, I have my reasons and to you they’re probably not very good.  Connor says I’m just being a coward.  Maybe he’s right (just don’t tell him that, he doesn’t need an ego boost at the moment).

 

Just that there’s been a lot of heavy shit going on lately and I needed time for that to pass. I don’t want to get into the details of it so all you really need to know is that we had to relive our past there in Boston, we had to be the Saints on the home front.  They deserved what they had coming and I’m just glad it’s over.

 

Our guns, rosaries, everything that screamed ‘The Saints’ or ‘Boston’ are in a box that we plan on burying somewhere, perhaps the barn. I want peace, even if it means burying part of you with it.  I’ll give it another six months or so, if I don’t hear from you then I guess this’ll be my last letter.  I can’t keep hanging on to something that I know is either slowly dying or dead altogether.  I get that you were pissed at us for leaving that day but you can’t stay mad at us forever.  Connor says he’s going to hang on for as long as it takes for you to write us back but I can’t keep doing this.

 

If you haven’t already, I hope that one day you can forgive us for that night. We never meant for you to feel abandoned when we closed the door; we had always planned on coming back that night.  Connor’s plan was for us to go to New York after that night.  On the ride to Papa Joe’s I had finally convinced Connor and Rocco that it was the worth risk to take you with us.  We were going to clean up the streets of New York for a little bit then move on to another city that could use a bit of cleaning up, perhaps Philadelphia or D.C.

 

You’re probably thinking that we would’ve only brought you along for sex and patch work, and you’d be right. At least partially right anyway.  The three of us all had needs that would’ve needed to be taken care of but what you told me is still ringing in my ears.  I know you probably don’t remember it…you were so damn drunk that night you completely lost any filter you may have had on.  Even Doc was a little taken aback with what you were saying.  When the bulk of the crowd had left, when it was just you, me, Doc, and Connor, you turned to me and in not so many words said that one of the primary needs of being human was procreation; ensuring that the human race survives.  That everyone, every now and then, needs a good fuck.  And if someone happened to get knocked up then oh well.

 

I had a long visit with Ma last week and told her what you said. Naturally she thought you were full of shit and if it weren’t for the fact that you were drunk off your ass, she probably would’ve slapped you silly.  Ma just had her birthday a few weeks ago; even though she has her moments, she’s still one of the wisest women I’ve known.  She says that you only have it part right that people are “wired,” if you will for procreation.

 

There’s more to it than just sex.

 

Remember when we had that talk about kids, marriage, and dare I even use the “l” word? Fuck it.  If this is my last letter to you then I may as well say it.

 

Love.

 

There I said it…wrote it.

 

At one time I did love you, but as time goes by, as the years drag on, I don’t know anymore. I always thought I’d have more time.  More time with you, making sure the nightmares that haunted you stayed away.  More time to learn your quirks, to learn what made you tick, to learn all the ways to make you scream my name.  Maybe if we never left in the first place I’d have grown a pair to say it to your face.

 

Ma said that when Da left us, after she’d put me and Connor to bed for the night, she’d stay up long enough for a cup of tea and would pull out the photo albums. She was so mad at him for leaving but then, looking through all the pictures, she’d remember why she loved him.  I asked her last week when I saw her if she still loves him.

 

Know what she told me?

 

She said that she still does but she’s just not able to live under the same roof with him. They’d been apart for too long that it just didn’t feel right to her to have him in the house again.  He goes over there for a visit every now and then, even stays for dinner on occasion but too much time has passed between them that Ma just can’t let him stay the night.

 

She thinks that I’ve fallen into the same rut she has; she doesn’t think that I’ve grown bitter towards you, rather that since it’s been so long since I’ve seen you that I can’t love you the same way I did before if you walked through the door right now.

 

Ma says she fell in love with Da mainly because of his sense of humor, though I don’t remember if I’ve ever heard the man laugh. The other thing she fell in love with was the way he protected her.  Before we were born, before they got married, Da always made sure Ma was safe.  When they’d go out, he would walk her to the door and waited on the porch until she was inside and the door was locked tight.  After we were born, before he left, Ma says that he would never let the three of us out of his sight.  Most days he would stay at home and help Ma take care of us.  You know, diaper changes, bottle feedings, bath time, shit like that.  When he had to leave Uncle Sibeal would stay with us until he got back.

 

Ma never understood why he left us the last time, quite honestly neither do I. I do know that he wouldn’t have done it unless he had too.  I’d like to think that he did it to protect us from something that would result in our collective demise.

 

Who really knows though, right?

 

Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to tell you is that I don’t know if I can keep this up anymore. I’m hurt that you won’t even write us back, even after all this time but at the same time I can’t give you up.  I found a few scarce pictures of you that someone had taken at your Christmas party and I’ve come across the ones Connor had taken on Valentine’s night.  I see these pictures of you and everything just kind of melts away.  I remember why I fell for you in the first place and that little flame starts to flicker back to life again.

 

I’m to the point where I’m ready to pick up the phone and call Smecker, demanding him for your address and just risk it all to go back there. I’m sick of not knowing if you’re dead or alive, I’m sick of the silence!

 

Saoirse wants me to stay patient, she says that you’ll come around (eventually). I think Connor told you in one of his letters that she was pregnant; well Saoirse has herself a bouncing baby girl and thanks in part to Ma, has developed some wisdom.  After listening to my drunken ramblings one night she came to the conclusion that it is possible that you are trying to write to us but Smecker’s not doing his part in forwarding those letters to us for whatever reason.  Even if that were the case, and we confronted Smecker about it, he’d probably deny it anyway.

 

The last time we actually spoke with him on the phone was almost three months ago. He said that he’s got cases piled up to the ceiling with copycats trying to be like us and another stack of cases on Yakavetta’s associates.  You know, the ones we didn’t get.  When Connor tried to bring your name up, Smecker said that he’s been sending our letters to you and also that he’s got an agent that’s been keeping an eye on you.  He said that his agent hasn’t reported anything bad so he could only assume that you were alive and well.

 

I asked him what he thought about you not writing us back. Naturally he thinks you’re fucking stubborn as hell but he said if he still hadn’t heard a peep out of you in a couple of weeks that he was going to make a house call and check up on you.  All I can say is that it’s about fucking time he’s done that.  It’s only been what?  Two or three years since he’s last seen you?  Been closer to four the last time Connor and I saw you.

 

It’s funny how Ma and Saoirse don’t want us to give up on you but Da is the complete opposite. He says that if you were married to either of us that he could understand us not wanting to let you go yet.  Since that’s not the case and since we haven’t heard a peep out of you in four years he thinks we should just write you off.  Of course that set Connor off; in all our years together I have never seen my brother _that_ angry.  If it wasn’t for the fact that the man is our Da I would not have put it past Connor to hit him.

 

This is so fucking confusing. I get where Ma’s coming from and I get where Da’s coming from.  I’m forcing myself to give you up and it doesn’t feel right at all.  I know that you can hold a grudge, hell you wouldn’t talk to us for months after we learned about what you do in the bath when you need to relax.

 

Please, just write us a line back. I don’t want this to be my last letter to you.

 

Murphy


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I realize I have not updated this story since the beginning of November and for that I apologize. I have been working 2 jobs and shortly after I posted the last chapter I started working in excess of 60 hours a week (7 days a week) which left little to no time for writing.  This is the second to last chapter of this story and afterwards I hope to finish the re-write of_ Her Defenses _. I have been keeping notes and hope to start a proper sequel to the initial story in the near future.  In the meantime, I plan to keep plucking away at my other story,_ Desperado _, and will update that as time permits._

****

** Chapter 7 **

****

I don’t see the point in keeping this up anymore, so I guess this will be the last letter you’ll probably ever get from me. The only thing I can really hope for anymore these days is that one day you’ll come to Ireland and our paths will cross again.

Probably for the last six or seven months I’ve been having this dream – all of us sitting in Doc’s having a drink, just like old times, but it wasn’t. We’re older, our faces more haggard from time.  For some reason me and Murph look like a pair of homeless folks with scraggily beards, unkempt hair, even our eyes are sunken in a bit more.  Your hair is faded, the red has turned to grey and silver, your eyes are surrounded with dark circles, and you have this look that seems to say that you’ve seen some shit you wish you hadn’t.

Rocco’s behind the bar pouring drinks and Da is leaning over the bar with a cigar between his teeth. They’re both telling us that neither of them regrets the decisions they made, that they would do it all over again if they could.  Murph is trying to apologize to Roc for getting him involved with us in the first place and I was trying to apologize to Da for everything I ever blamed him for.

They were both gone before we could even get a word.

It was just the three of us in the bar after that.

You told us how sorry you were for ignoring us all these years but refused to look us in the eye to say it; you just kept looking straight ahead, never touching your glass. I was pleading, no begging, you to look at us but you said you couldn’t.  You said that if you did everything would change and it wouldn’t be for the better.  It was like you were trying to give us some kind of warning.

You know us, you know that we were never really ones to listen or heed warnings. We got up, went around the bar, and it wasn’t until we were face to face with you that we wished we hadn’t gotten up in the first place.  Caoimhe, you weren’t you; there wasn’t anything about you there except your voice and hair.  The mirror we saw you in was just a reflection of what you were.

Looking at you head on, you were nothing more than bones wrapped in dead flesh. Bullet holes riddled your body and the longer we stared each other down the more we started to notice what it was that caused you to look the way you did.  The handcuffs were still around your wrists, the gag hung loosely around your neck, and just when I was reaching out to touch you, a gunshot rings out.

It always happens in slow motion. The bullet exiting the middle of your forehead, blood spraying in every direction.  As your head falls onto the bar, someone silhouetted in the shadows is tucking their gun back into their pocket.  We see the Cheshire cat grin on their face before two more gunshots ring out.

I always wake up right after that.

I hope this dream is not a sign of what will be if we ever see each other again. It still hurts knowing Rocco’s gone even after all these years, I can’t imagine what that pain would be like if I lost Da, Murph, and you all in one go.  Hell, you can’t imagine how hard it is for me right now to even put these words to paper.  I don’t want to call this the end but what choice do I have?  It’s like you once said, every book has its ending and I guess this is the end of our book.

Connor


End file.
